#voltron dreamworks
Pairing: Keith/Lance
Words: 2584
Chapters: 1/1
“I- I think I love you.”
Keith freezes.
It takes a moment for Lance to figure out what’s happened- what he’s said- and Keith watches as his boyfriend startles violently, eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets. They stare at each other, the air tense in a different sense than what it’s been for the last few minutes. It’s something close to awkward and Keith would run if not for the compromising position they’re in- naked and in the midst of sex.
The doors of his room haven’t even slid all the way shut when Lance throws himself at Keith.
There’s the solid thump of twin helmets falling to the floor, kicked to the corner and out of the way by clumsy feet. The inconvenient bulk of their armor is easy to ignore, especially when gloved hands make their way to Keith’s hair, bunching it up and brushing it away from his face. It feels nice and he pushes forward in response, his own hands spread over a firm stomach and the sweet dip of a back; he is too eager and the knee he braces between Lance’s thighs has them stumbling back into the side wall.
Lance grunts at the collision, but welcomes Keith’s weight nonetheless, body arching to the touch in a fashion that goes straight to his groin. Then it’s a familiar dance they move to- back and forth, push and pull, inhale and exhale. It’s a sharp tug on his hair and a quick nip on his bottom lip, nails scraping down and down and down. It’s a grope to his boyfriend’s backside and a low groan of pleasure slipping past the seal of their lips, hips rocking. It’s trailing kisses down the elegant column of a neck and a flower of bruised purple blooming where his tongue lingers, tasting sweat and ash and cinnamon.
“I was worried,” Lance says to the room at large, breathy voice slicing through the loaded silence with such suddenness that Keith breaks away to look at him. His eyes are hooded, but blazing with liquid fire that cools just as it burns. “During the mission… I was…”
He doesn’t finish, but Keith knows. Keith knows because even tucked away as they are, away from danger and responsibility, it’s still fresh in his mind. The searing heat of an ion cannon clipping his lion’s shoulder and the rush of weightlessness as he fell, pulled into a nearby gas giant’s gravity. The feeling of being helpless of his own demise- so chilling, so abrupt, so inevitable.
The thought of it ending- he imagines drawing his last breath and fading into the background of the lost- is too much and his grip on his boyfriend tightens involuntarily.
“But you’re okay. You’re here- with me,” Lance murmurs, lashes fluttering. A thumb sweeps across Keith’s temple, grounding him to the here and now. “You’re okay.”
Keith swallows past the mysterious lump in his throat. “Yeah, I am. It’s… I’m okay.”
The recycled air of the ship is cool against the sweaty skin at the back of his neck, a medium that makes them- the moment, real. He tilts his chin up a fraction of an inch and Lance responds accordingly, kissing him hard. Keith opens up to him, allowing the tongue to slip into his mouth and explore every corner with expertise and familiarity that breeds satisfaction.
Then it’s a scramble to peel off their suits, hands fumbling with the latches of chest plates and rumpled fabric. They nearly take a tumble when the back of Lance’s knees hit the bed and he flounders for balance, automatically reaching for Keith just as he’s lifting a leg to kick off his boots; they’re only saved by his quick reflexes, hand braced against the bed’s roof. Unconcerned, Lance mutters something in Spanish and reaches behind Keith to unzip his suit, causing goosebumps to rise along his exposed flesh at the brush of cool air. It’s tough with only one hand available and the distraction of soft lips moving against his own, but Keith manages to return the favor and peel black spandex from brown skin, letting it fall to the floor.
A quick shove and Lance is bouncing onto the mattress, neck tilting up so that he can watch Keith crawl on top of him and accept the kiss he bestows. Urging him to scoot further up the bed, he settles himself comfortably, bent legs on either side of sharp hips and skin sailing over skin in beautiful friction. Another point of pressure and Lance is leaning all the way back, body pliant to Keith’s guidance and charge of the situation. It’s no secret that Lance likes to be pushed around in bed.
Keith takes a moment to appreciate the view, the graceful stretch of a torso and lithe limbs, sinew of muscles reacting to the whispers of touch he imparts upon every inch granted to him, and swollen lips glossy with spit. It’s a beautiful sight, one that Keith never gets tired of seeing- and never will.
So, there’s no surprise when he grabs the other’s face in between his hands and, back bowed like a votary commencing worship, pushes their bodies infinitely closer. The resulting friction is everything. They revel in the feeling, gasping into each other’s mouths and trading damp puffs of air while they continue to rub against each other, each trying to gain the upper hand and make the other crack first. Lance cheats and sneaks a hand between them, taking hold of his dick and jerking until Keith starts dripping precum and swears colorfully; which is fine, because Keith gets him back on the next grind, rolling slowly and with enough force that Lance throws his head back with a drawn out moan- only to cut off abruptly when Keith bites down on his neck. It’s not long until they’re itching for more, to reach the zenith of the moment and fall over its edge, burning in a flare of raw stimulus.
It’s hard to tear himself away from Lance and the pretty noises he’s making, but Keith deems it wroth it when his blind patting at the wall opens a compartment to their left. It takes a few tries, because his boyfriend is nothing if not distracting, but eventually he procures a strip of condoms and off-white tube of lubricant- both acquired after an embarrassing trip to a trading outpost that involved a visit to an intergalactic brothel, of which Keith had threatened outright murder if Lance- who was still laughing uncontrollably even as they returned to their lions- ever told a soul what may or may not have happened behind those walls. Still, wounded dignity aside, it’s got nothing against the feeling of his own slicked fingers entering himself.
Lance makes a small noise in the back of his throat, neck craning to see, and only quiets when Keith starts up a shallow thrust. The stretch is good, better than good actually, but he wants to make it better, so he takes one of Lance’s hands from where it’s gripping the sheets and brings it to his face, tilting his head so that his cheek rests in the curve of his palm.
Lance swallows and it’s a loud thing.
Encouraged, Keith adds another finger and pushes back onto the probing digits, chest heaving as he twists them just so. The movement puts him up close and personal to Lance’s arousal, just as stiff and insistent as his own. He barely fights off the urge to touch himself, knowing he won’t last as long as he wants if he does so, and focuses on Lance’s face, open and flushed, instead, watching through half-lidded eyes as he licks his lips; the attention is gratifying, even more so when, without breaking eye contact, Lance’s free hand runs up his leg to curl around his thigh, squeezing.
He braces a hand on Lance’s chest, rising higher on his knees to better chase down his desire. The hand cupping his face remains where it is, thumb brushing over the swell of his bottom lip until it becomes too much and he gives it a small nip.
“Lance,” he finally breathes, voice broken. His fingers brush against his walls just right and his eyes flutter shut, his lover’s name turning into a drawn out moan.
Lance sits up abruptly and Keith nearly loses his balance, having to shift forward so that their chest brush with every inhale. Filed nails scrape softly against his jaw, moving down his throat with the same languid intent as the hand smoothing over his backside, pausing where Keith works himself. There’s a shudder of breath when their fingers touch inside his stretched hole, slick with sweat and lube; he can feel the bump of knuckles graze along his walls as Lance curls his long fingers, spreading him open. A strangled sound escapes him, and soon he’s going crazy with the stimulation. Lance must share his desire for more because then he’s suddenly empty and he whines something needy, twitching when he hears the rip of plastic and feels Lance’s tip at his entrance. He has time to comprehend dilated pupils surrounded by a thin ring of blue and a reverent whisper of his own name before he’s gloriously full once more.
He throws his head back at the sting of pleasurable pain. Lance murmurs something he can’t hear beyond the white noise pulsing in his ears, but it doesn’t matter because the hands curling at his waist and neck are gentle, and lips are then pecking apologies onto his eyelids, cheeks and nose.
Gray sheets stick to their skin, tangling underneath and in between their legs, rustling with every drive forward. Keith’s breathing becomes labored as the rocking evolves into something more carnal.
They collide in a whirlwind of stardust, compressed into a single moment so profound it’s hard to distinguish where one ends and the other begins. Keith keens when Lance adjusts, leaning partially back on a hand braced on the mattress, and white spots erupt across his vision momentarily, pulled along a string of constellations that ties them together until it’s a wonder they were ever separate to begin with. They move in tandem, rolling like an asteroid in the waves of deep space.
He lifts his hips and twists them on the drop down, unable to stop the zealous groan of pleasure it elicits.
“Keith. Keith. Keith,” Lance suddenly gasps. “I- I think I love you.”
Keith freezes.
It takes a moment for Lance to figure out what’s happened- what he’s said- and Keith watches as his boyfriend startles violently, eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets. They stare at each other, the air tense in a different sense than what it’s been for the last few minutes. It’s something close to awkward and Keith would run if not for the compromising position they’re in- naked and in the midst of sex.
He opens his mouth, only for the words to get caught in his throat.
“You don’t have to say it back,” Lance assures him hurriedly, wincing at whatever expression makes itself known on Keith’s face. “I didn’t say it because- if you don’t- can’t- it wasn’t to bully you into anything. It was just- the truth.”
His chest aches, and it’s something Keith can’t put a name to; it makes him both queasy and happy, and he doesn’t know whether or not he likes it. This is a bridge they have yet to cross, yet to consider, and it can break just as easily as it can hold; it’s entirely in Keith’s hands and it’s a daunting power to have. So he makes a decision.
“Say it again.”
Lance starts, surprised, but must see something in Keith’s eyes because he grows solemn a moment later, eyes unwavering even as he says, “I love you, Keith.”
“Again.”
“I love you.”
“Again.”
“I love you.”
A kiss lingers at the corner of his mouth, breathing warmth into him where space cannot, while their rhythm starts up once more, steady and deep. “Again.”
“I love you,” Lance says, more fervent as he pushes forward with a singular focus- to smother Keith with every burning touch and honest declaration. Every thrust is a resounding clap of thunder of the storm they brave together, growing louder and louder until it’s all they can hear. “I love you, I love you, I- oh, fuck- I love you. I love you so much, it- it hurts.Oh god, do I love you.”
The arm around his waist flexes, helping to lift him and eventually driving them to hit that sweet spot. Keith cries out, feeling raw and hysterical and loved. Lance harmonizes with him, hot air hitting his face as they climb to that higher place together.
“I,ha, love you, Keith Kogane. I love you.” The words are spoken of their own accord, making Keith’s toes curl. “I love you to the end of the universe and back.”
His insides burn, magma bubbling to the surface and erupting in a shower of fireworks. He comes with a silent scream that coats Lance’s chest, working himself through it with enough gusto that it’s near painful. Lance is not far behind, riding out the wave with one, two, three thrusts.
They fall back onto the sheets when it’s done, completely spent. With limbs feeling like lead and the static ringing in his ears beginning to die down, he lets himself just lay there; the pillows against his cheek are cool to the touch and from this angle he can watch Lance catch his breath, all parted lips and heaving chest. The dimmed lights of the room cast a turquoise glow to brown skin and Keith isn’t strong enough to stop himself from reaching across the minimal space between them and trailing a finger along a sharp jaw.
“Did you mean it?” he asks in the limbo of silence that reigns, watching as Lance turns his head to face him, cheeks flushed from exertion. It almost doesn’t come out, the question, but he pushes through on sheer will alone, because he has to know. “What you said. Did you mean it?”
Blue eyes go incredibly soft. “Of course I did. I really do love you, Keith.”
Keith’s insides squirm pleasantly and he chokes on his own spit.
Lance takes the reaction badly, inching his head back with a nervous grimace. “Do… do you not want me to say it? I mean, if it makes you uncomfortable I can-”
“No,” he says too quickly and flushes. “No, it- it’s fine. I don’t mind, really. It’s just, uh…”
“Hey,” Lance thankfully interrupts, curled index finger brushing his cheek and the hair sticking to it. “You don’t need to say it back- it’s okay, honest.”
That’s not the problem. The problem is that Keith wants to say it, but can’t. The words aren’t forming properly, catching at the back of his throat and constricting on its aspiration for freedom. I love you just isn’t in his vocabulary- a cipher he hasn’t decoded, a chapter he hasn’t read, a sky he hasn’t flown. It’s a bold step forward on a path they walk together, a tug in the direction of absolution and promise, and Keith is afraid he might trip.
So, instead, he says with utter sincerity, “I would cross the entire universe for you.”
Which is the same thing, right?
Lance seems to think so, because he smiles this smile, with squinty eyes and dimples pinching each cheek, and, wow, Keith is gone. Gone because Lance is staring at himwith that look and the thought alone makes him feel a tick away from becoming ash and being swept away by a stray breeze. But, Lance anchors him there, solidifying his presence into something both sturdy and brittle with those three simple words whispered against his lips.
When Lance kisses him, Keith thinks it won’t be long until he can say it back.
